Silverlight Terrace and it burns with a guilty smoke

His jaws were swift to shut with a distinct click as he cut off the yawn; doing that there would do him no good with some mileage left to go under his feet. Yet it was in those scant moments to pass that he caught the briefest flicker of movement against the shadows long in dying light.

Hydra.

Ever the wraith she was, she sat poised.

His steps were halted at once, their cessation natural as he regarded her from a distance. Was she waiting? Seemed that way and for who he wondered. He wondered what drew her out to this place, certain it was no pull to him that would see her loose in the evening... though he would have liked that very much.

Teasing her at a distance, he drew to his full height and flagged his tail out, his little cunning display of dominance. He chuffed softly; would she wander out? Perhaps he should have thought again on the notion of eyes on him—how long had she lingered there, unmoving and waiting—but he thought instead he had figured out the why all along.

Gannet, fortunately, went unseen.